Heartlines
by foreverwriting9
Summary: She tells herself later that she had no other choice, but the reality of the situation is that she's had many choices when it comes to Jane, and somehow every single one she picks leads her right back to him.


_Just keep following, _

_The heartlines on your hands, _

'_Cause I am._

**Florence and the Machine, 'Heartlines'**

XXX

Lisbon keeps the very first origami frog that Jane gives her, because she knows without a doubt that there will be many more. He is childish and irritating and uncooperative, and really, it is inevitable how much trouble he will put her through.

Giving up on the paperwork sitting in front of her, Lisbon slides her desk drawer open, peeking in at the paper frog. (It _almost _makes everything better.) For half a second, she even contemplates naming the creature, but then squashes the notion, because she's not _five_. She taps its nose carefully, imagining a drawer full of origami frogs, full of Patrick Jane's apologies, and then turns back to her work.

(She leaves the drawer open so the little paper creature can breathe.)

She finds Jane later, sitting in the CBI kitchen, with sheets of paper in front of him, and a half-formed frog sitting in his hands.

"What are you doing?" she asks, sliding into the seat across from him.

"Making more frogs," he says, putting the final touches on the one in his hands. "For the future."

Lisbon watches as he grabs another sheet of paper. "For who?" she asks, trying to tamp down the jealous ache in her chest.

Jane's sad smile tells her that he knows why she's asking. "For you." He reaches out a hand, and resting in his palm is the newly made frog. "Only for you."

Lisbon takes it carefully from him. "Maybe I should make some for you." She means for the sentence to be a statement, but it comes out sounding more like a question.

Jane shakes his head. "You don't need to; you won't let me down." He says it so confidently that a little piece of Lisbon breaks.

She slides forward in her seat, her knee accidentally knocking into Jane's. "But just in case?"

His smile almost reaches his eyes this time. "All right," he acquiesces, sliding a piece of paper across to her.

XXX

His first instinct is to protect her, which is ridiculous because she is strong and brave and she has _three guns_.

"I'm always going to save you, Lisbon." He's made plenty of promises in his life, and broken more than he can count, but this one is different. Jane can feel the weight of it in his bones, can taste the surety of the fact on his tongue: _he will save Teresa Lisbon until his dying breath_.

"I don't need to be saved." Her green eyes are weary as she takes a step away from him.

"But I'll be there when you need to be," he says, and he has never meant anything more.

He breaks this promise.

XXX

"Are you mad?" Bertram half-rises from his desk as he spits the words out.

Jane shrugs. "I doubt it."

"Always a trickier question than it seems when it comes to him," Lisbon adds from behind him.

Bertram squints at both of them. "Do you know who you're talking to?"

Jane slides his hands into his pockets, rocking onto the balls of his feet. "Yes," he says, the word clipped and menacing. "The man who's letting Katie Meek's killer escape."

"Jane-" Lisbon tries to cut in, her hand hovering over his shoulder.

He swings around quickly, fingers brushing against her coat. "I hope you're not trying to back what this man," Jane pauses, waving his hands in Bertram's direction, "is saying, Lisbon. He's uninformed and old fashioned and _moronic_-"

"_Jane_." She grips his arm and tugs, pulling him toward the door. Then she turns back to Bertram. "Just give us a moment."

"Lisbon-" Jane begins in a whining voice as Lisbon shuts the office door behind them.

"No, Jane." She puts one hand on her hip, keeping the other pressed against his arm in warning. "You can't do things like that. You can't call the director of the CBI _moronic._"

"But-"

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, I know that he's being stubborn and won't let you execute your so-called brilliant plan." (And Katie Meek is blonde and beautiful, and in another world she could be Jane's daughter.)

Jane huffs. "It _is_ a brilliant plan," he mutters under his breath.

Lisbon raises an eyebrow at him. "But at the same time, the longer you stay here and argue with him and insult him, the longer we're away from the investigation, and the more likely the chances are of Katie Meek's killer escaping."

He sighs, dropping his gaze down to where her hand grips the sleeve of his jacket.

"Now," she continues, "you're going to go in there and apologize to Bertram, so that we can get the hell out of here and solve a murder."

Jane leans forward slightly, smiling when he feels her fingers tighten on his arm involuntarily. "All right, Lisbon," he says. "But only because you asked me to." With that, Jane turns and makes his way over to the door, stopping as his hand touches the cool metal of the doorknob. "You coming?" he asks (and he tries not to admit it, but he instantly misses the warmth of her skin pressed against his arm).

Lisbon nods, following closely behind him as he reenters Bertram's office.

Jane apologizes. (But he doesn't really mean it.)

XXX

Jane doesn't breathe for the _twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty_ seconds that Lisbon is laying on the ground, miles away from him with a bullet in her shoulder.

"Lisbon!" Something is clawing its way up the back of his throat, and it feels curiously like panic. "Lisbon!"

He almost cries when she finally responds, and suddenly he can't focus on Red John, because all he can think about is strawberries and birthday ponies and _we're a family, Jane_.

Sometimes he hates that he puts her through all of this.

"I'll call you back."

(She can hear the little hitch in his voice, _knows_ he's lying to her.

He will always break her heart.)

XXX

Her first day back in the office, Lisbon finds an origami frog perched on her chair.

Jane walks in silently behind her as she picks up the creation, his teacup and saucer balanced in one hand. "To go with the others," he says softly.

Lisbon turns and looks at him, pretending not to know what he's talking about. "What others?"

His smile is half-hidden behind his cup as he takes a sip of tea. "I know you kept the other frogs I made you."

"Oh, really? And how do you know that?"

Jane shrugs. "I might have broken into your desk."

She's not surprised, but she tries to act offended, because it's the _principle_ of the matter. "_Jane_. How...why I-"

"It's quite all right, dear. I kept the frog you made me."

Lisbon doesn't know what to say to that, so she settles on throwing a _look_ over her shoulder at him. (It doesn't faze him in the least.) He wanders over to her couch and sits down, waiting a moment before he speaks again. "It's good to have you back, Lisbon."

She looks up at him, trying to ignore the odd little lurch her heart gives at his words. "Patrick Jane, did you miss me?"

He shrugs, trying to cover up how _meaningful_ this moment is. "Who else am I going to tease mercilessly? Who else is going to make tea for me?" His voice drops, and Lisbon almost misses what he says next. "Who else is going to rescue me?"

Lisbon walks over and sits down next to him on the couch. "Probably no one," she admits softly, running her fingers over the fabric of the couch.

Jane takes another sip of tea, watching her and _wishing_. "Exactly," he says as he sets the cup and saucer down on his lap. "Exactly."

XXX

They're in an alleyway, waiting for one of Jane's genius (his own word) plans to pan out, when everything falls apart.

"Listen," Jane says, his frown barely visible in the dying light of the alley, "just because you want to project a strong image as a female cop-which I totally understand, by the way-doesn't mean that you can't acknowledge the chauvinists like Lieutenant Bailey and knock-"

Lisbon kicks at a nearby rock, sending it skittering away. "I do believe you're jealous, Mr. Jane."

Jane screws up his face in an attempt to look indignant. "Lisbon, he was flirting with you, badly, might I add, _at a crime scene_."

"And what kinds of things have you done at crime scenes?" she asks archly, leaning against the wall and remembering every inappropriate comment and magic trick ever performed while in the presence of a corpse.

"I...but...you..." Jane splutters. "He told you that you looked 'mighty fine today'," he says eventually, adopting Lieutenant Bailey's southern accent. "And that if he was still in Texas he would take you-"

"I was there, Jane. I know what he said." She rolls her eyes at him. Really he can be so insuff- "Shit."

Jane's head snaps up. "What?"

"McMahon's in the alley."

"But he's not supposed-"

"I know." She grabs the lapels of Jane's coat, pushes him up against the wall, and stares at him, her gaze flitting from his eyes to his lips.

He furrows his brow. "Um, Lisbon, what-"

"Shut up," she says, trying to ignore the look on his face, and then she kisses him. (She tells herself later that she had no other choice, but the reality of the situation is that she's had many choices when it comes to Jane, and somehow every single one she picks leads her right back to him.)

Lisbon jumps when he actually kisses her back, and then suddenly _she_ is the one with her back pressed against the brick, and his curls are under her fingers, and he tastes like tea.

They break apart when Cho comes out of nowhere and tackles McMahon to the ground. For a moment, all Lisbon can hear is the rushing of the blood in her ears, and then Jane whispers something that sounds like _this was inevitable_ against her forehead, and Lisbon doesn't know if he means the failure of their (almost) fool-proof plan or _them_.

"Hey guys, thanks for the help," Rigsby shouts from where he and Cho are attempting to cuff McMahon.

"No problem," Jane responds, pulling away from Lisbon and wincing when his voice cracks on the words. He makes his way toward Cho and Rigsby, trying desperately to quell the goofy smile tugging at his mouth.

"You have lipstick on your face," Cho says as Jane steps out onto the street, and when Lisbon finally emerges from the darkened alleyway, Cho doesn't even bother commenting on her bedraggled appearance.

Rigsby laughs the whole way back to headquarters.

XXX

Jane slides the door to his attic open slowly, watching cautiously as the tea in his hands sloshes against the sides of the cup. He almost has a heart attack when he realizes someone is already in the room waiting for him.

"_Lisbon_?" Drops of tea splatter onto his shoes.

Lisbon turns around from her place near the window and frowns at him. "What, are you the only one that can brood up here?"

"No, of course not. Brood away," he says, raising his cup to her in a silent salute and then sinking down onto his makeshift bed. He watches her for a few painful moments, taking note of her posture and the way she grips the windowsill, before he speaks again. "Lisbon, come here," he says softly, patting the spot next to him.

She shakes her head at first, but eventually gives in, slowly making her way over to him, her shoulder bumping into his as she sits down.

"It's not your fault, you know." Jane's voice sounds too loud in the dusty room.

Lisbon tangles her fingers together and stares down at her shoes, stubbornly refusing to make eye contact with him. "I should have been there to save her, Jane. We knew Mr. Kennedy was unstable. We knew he might try to strike again, and I should have-"

"Hush," he says, tapping her fingers lightly. "You can't be there to save everyone, Saint Teresa."

She looks up at him sadly. "We were so close, Jane."

"I know."

"If only..." She stops herself, frustrated. Jane watches her silently, smiling when she suddenly snatches up his teacup and takes a sip.

"Oh my gosh-"

Jane grins. "It's the best thing you've ever tasted?"

"No," Lisbon splutters, her face twisting in disgust. "You drink this?"

He splays a hand across his chest, feigning offense. "Hey-"

"This actually makes you feel better?" She brings the cup to her nose. "What's in this, Jane? Arsenic?"

"Yes, Lisbon," he says, deadpan. "I put arsenic in my tea."

Lisbon smiles, giving his cup back to him. "That explains a lot actually."

The look on his face makes her laugh, and sometimes, she makes him wish that his life was more than a threadbare mattress and a bloody wall. He leans in toward her, watching as her eyes darken. "Do you feel better now?"

She nods, the corners of her mouth curving upward. "Thank you," she says quietly, pressing a few fingers to his arm and then standing up. "I should probably..." She trails off, gesturing vaguely to the door of the attic, and Jane smiles. (She can be so hopelessly _awkward_, and he finds it impossibly endearing.)

"Probably," he agrees.

Lisbon stops at the door and turns back to him, all shyness and glittering hope. "Thank you again, Jane. For everything, I mean."

"You're welcome, Lisbon," he says as she slides the door shut behind her.

XXX

In the end, they both kill Red John.

Jane shoots first, and Lisbon's shot follows quickly after, and then there is blood everywhere, and they have no idea which of them is actually responsible for the mess.

Lisbon looks down at her blood spattered shoes and then turns to face Jane, incredulous. "_You had a gun_?"

He doesn't say anything. Instead, he wipes some blood from his face, then grabs her hand and runs.

"Jane," she says, but he doesn't answer, just keeps tugging her after him. "Jane," she says louder, and by now they are outside the darkened warehouse, and her voice bounces off the pavement beneath their feet. "What are you doing?"

He slows to a walk, but keeps a hold of her hand, pulling her behind him until they reach the car. "This," Jane says simply, and then he pushes her against the car and drowns her in him. His hands leave bloody tracks across her white shirt as he presses his fingers into her sides, making Lisbon gasp at the contact.

When they finally pull apart, they both sink onto the ground, exhausted.

Lisbon leans her head back against the car, staring up into the morning sunrise. "Red John's dead," she says, as though the realization has just hit her.

Jane turns and watches her thoughtfully. "Everything will be different now."

"And yet," she says, reaching over to take his hand, "somehow exactly the same."


End file.
